The interface did not fade.
It remained suspended in the air before Elias, unmoving, unwavering, as if it had always belonged there.
He stared at it for a long moment, heart slowly settling into a steady rhythm.
Panic wouldn't help.
Denial wouldn't either.
Whatever this was, it had already crossed the line into reality.
The screen flickered.
Lines of text rearranged themselves.
[PARAMETERS ASSIGNMENT: COMPLETE]
New information appeared—clean, sharp, absolute.
[CORE SYSTEM LAW:
THE HOST'S DESIRE IS SUPREME
• The host may act freely, without restrictions as long as it abides the core system law.
• No authority may dictate the host's choices. Anything done by the host influenced by another party results in judgement. The system will sent forth a being to punish the one responsible with nothing but death!
• Mercy toward enemies is prohibited. In the event that host is unable to kill an enemy, the sytem will sent forth judgement.]
[EVALUATION STANDARD:
DESIRE FULFILLMENT]
Elias read the words slowly.
Once.
Twice.
His chest tightened—not in fear this time, but something else.
Confusion.
"So it doesn't care what I want," he murmured.
"Just that I want it. Is this seriously a villain system?"
The system offered no response.
It didn't correct him.
It didn't disagree.
It simply existed.
That alone unsettled him more than any voice could have.
A new prompt surfaced.
[BEGINNER'S PACK: DELIVERED]
The interface shifted, unfolding into layered panels.
The first one solidified.
[STATUS
Name: Elias Mercer
Level: 1
Designation: Villain (Unclassified)
Abilities: —
Skills: —]
Empty.
Clean.
Like an untouched ledger waiting to be written in.
He lingered on the designation.
Villain.
Not criminal.
Not enemy.
Not monster.
Just a role.
The panel slid aside.
[INVENTORY
Capacity: 10 Slots
Stacking: Enabled (Identical Items Only)
Restrictions:
• Living entities or Sentient containment]
Ten empty squares hovered in silence inside a window panel that's labeled INVENTORY.
Elias felt a strange sense of unease looking at them—like drawers he hadn't decided what to hide yet.
Another panel followed.
[SKILL ACQUIRED
Appraisal (Level 1)
• Allows basic identification of objects and entities
• Information provided is limited and incomplete]
No dramatic fanfare.
No surge of power.
Just access.
Tools, not strength.
The system wasn't making him dangerous.
It was making him capable.
Elias exhaled slowly and leaned back against the headboard.
"So this is how it starts," he said quietly.
No prophecy.
No calling.
Just function after function, layered neatly over his ordinary life.
He glanced at the time.
Past midnight.
In a few hours, he would wake up, open his bakery, greet customers with practiced warmth, and sell bread that made people feel safe.
And somewhere beneath that—
This.
The interface shifted again.
The room seemed colder.
[FIRST OBJECTIVE ASSIGNED]
The text appeared slowly, deliberately.
[OBJECTIVE:
FIND YOUR FIRST VICTIM]
Elias' breath stopped.
Victim.
The word sat heavy on the screen, unembellished and absolute.
No explanation followed.
No conditions.
No timer.
Just a task.
He stared at it for a long time.
"I don't want to be a Villain!" he shouted, not pleading, not accusing—just stating a stubborn desire.
Yet.
The system did not care.
He looked away from the interface, eyes drifting toward the darkened window.
Somewhere outside, people were still awake—walking home, arguing softly, laughing without knowing what kind of world they lived in.
What kind of world he lived in now.
"Does a victim have to be innocent?" he asked the empty room.
No answer came.
Because the system did not define morality.
It defined completion.
Elias closed his eyes.
For the first time since his memories returned, he understood something clearly.
This system would not push him forward.
It would simply record what he chose.
And once he chose—
There would be no mercy clause to fall back on.
When he opened his eyes again, the objective was still there.
Waiting.
[FIND YOUR FIRST VICTIM]
Elias sat in silence, the glow of the interface reflected faintly in his eyes.
Tomorrow, he would bake bread.
And somewhere along the way—
He would have to decide what that word meant.
.
.
.
Two days passed.
Nothing happened.
Elias opened the bakery at dawn, kneaded dough until his shoulders ached, and greeted familiar faces with the same quiet warmth as always.
The ovens hummed.
The bell above the door rang.
Children laughed.
Old regulars complained about the weather and bought the same bread they always did.
The system remained.
It hovered silently at the edge of his awareness, unchanged.
[OBJECTIVE: FIND YOUR FIRST VICTIM]
Elias ignored it.
He told himself that was possible.
If he didn't act, nothing would change.
Life would continue as it always had—simple, honest, small.
The world-ending disasters he remembered were still far away.
Tony Stark had only just revealed himself.
There was time.
By the end of the second day, Elias almost believed the system would stay dormant forever.
On the third night, he learned how wrong that assumption was.
He closed the bakery later than usual.
Inventory had run long, and one of his staff had called in sick.
By the time Elias stepped into the alley behind the shop, the streetlights had already flickered on, casting pale pools of light over damp concrete.
That was when he heard footsteps.
Fast.
Uneven.
"Don't move."
Elias froze.
A man stepped out of the shadows, thin, unshaven, eyes darting wildly.
His clothes were worn, his hands trembling. In one of them was a knife—small, cheap, but sharp enough.
"Money," the man said hoarsely. "Just—just give me the cash and I'll go."
Elias' heart hammered.
This had never happened before.
Years of running a bakery in this neighborhood, walking these streets late at night—and never once had he been threatened like this.
Why now?
The answer came unbidden.
Because the system is here.
Because his memories were back.
Because now that he knew the world could go wrong, it finally did.
Elias swallowed.
"Listen," he said carefully, raising his hands.
"You don't have to—"
The man lunged forward a half-step, panic flashing across his face.
"Shut up! I don't want to hurt you, man, I swear—but I need this!"
The knife wavered.
And something inside Elias snapped—not into anger, but clarity.
"So this is it," he murmured.
"The tutorial was really over."
The world narrowed.
Not into rage.
Into survival.
[TARGET DESIGNATED: FIRST VICTIM
DESIGNATION CONFIRMED]
Elias didn't remember choosing.
He only knew that suddenly, the man in front of him was outlined in awareness—present, immediate, unavoidable.
[REWARD GRANTED]
Information flowed.
[SKILL ACQUIRED]
[Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter World)
• Avada Kedavra
• Crucio
• Imperio
Casting Method: Single Finger
Restriction: Target must be designated as a victim.]
Elias' breath caught.
"No," he whispered.
This was too much.
Too fast.
The man took another step forward, desperation twisting his features.
"Please—!"
The system overlaid a final panel.
[CHOICE REQUIRED]
[Kill the target
Torture the target
Enforce obedience]
Elias' finger trembled.
He looked at the man again—not as a target, not as a system prompt, but as a person shaking in front of him.
And suddenly, he saw it.
A loophole.
Elias raised one finger.
Not in threat.
Not in cruelty.
And spoke quietly.
"Imperio."
"Listen to me," he said, voice steady despite the fear. Unsure if the spell activated.
"Put the knife down."
The man's eyes widened.
His arm stiffened—then lowered.
The knife clattered to the ground.
"Go home," Elias continued.
"Apologize. Tell them the truth. Ask for help. Change—not because you're forced to, but because you want to."
The man gasped, clutching his head, then fell to his knees.
Tears streamed down his face.
"I—I don't want to be like this anymore," he sobbed.
"I just wanted to get money—just enough—I messed up, okay? I messed everything up…"
Elias said nothing.
The man stood shakily, wiped his face, and bowed deeply.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I swear… I'll fix this."
Then he ran.
Elias would later learn the man's name was Daniel.
A factory worker laid off months ago.
A husband.
A father of two.
A son who had disappointed his parents one too many times.
Drugs had taken his job, then his pride, then his home.
That night, he returned.
His wife shouted first.
His parents cried next.
The children hid behind the door.
And then—slowly—they listened.
Confessed everything.
Asked for a chance.
They were angry.
But they let him stay.
He was still their son.
Still their husband.
Still their father.
Elias learned none of this firsthand.
He simply went home.
He locked the door behind him, leaned against it, and exhaled a long, shaking breath.
"…That was exhausting."
The system was quiet.
No praise.
No judgment.
Just completion.
Elias walked to his kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and stared out the window at the sleeping city.
Tomorrow, he would open the bakery again.
Bake bread.
Smile at customers.
Live his life.
And maybe—just maybe—
That was how he would survive this world.
He sighed, rubbing his temples, and turned off the light.
For now, everything was calm.
And he was grateful for that.
End of chapter 2